He suppressed a shudder. Not so many generations ago, the then Emperor had to sell his signature on the Kyoto streets to raise money for food. Not so many generations ago court marriages were arranged to ambitious, upstart daimyos, hardly samurai class, their only qualification for higher rank being success in war, and money. Not so many years ago...
No, he thought, none of that is going to happen.
Once sonno-joi is a fact, our loyal shishi friends will disband and return to their fiefs, all daimyos will bow down to Him, we at Court will rule and our golden age will come again.
He coughed and settled the immense sleeves of his elaborate court dress more to his liking, watching Yoshi, his eyes narrowed in his heavy face that was made up according to court custom.
"Surely the order to expel the gai-jin is good, Sire. The Emperor's wise and long-known aversion to gai-jin and the Treaties will come to pass, and our Land of the Gods rid of them forever. This should please you too, Lord Yoshi."
"If the order was meaningful, yes. If it would be obeyed, yes. If we had the means to enforce it, yes. But none of that will happen. Why was I not consulted?"
"You, Sire?" Wakura's painted eyebrows soared.
"I'm Guardian of the Heir by Imperial appointment! The boy is under age and not responsible for his signature."
"Oh so sorry, Sire... had it been left to me of course your approval would have been sought first. Please, do not blame me, Sire, I can decide nothing, only make suggestions, I am just a servant of the Court, of the Emperor."
"I should have been consulted!"
"I agree, so sorry, these are strange times."
Yoshi's face was taut. The damage was done. He would have to extract the Shogunate from their own dung. Fools! How?
First Anjo--one way or another... My wife was correct.
Ah, Hosaki, I miss your counsel.
Thinking of his family, his eyes drifted outside and at once his fury seemed to dissolve. Beyond the shoji window he saw his guards waiting in the lee of the exquisite roof, the gardens behind them, the rain indulgent, sparkling the carefully orchestrated reds and golds and browns making it all such a pleasing picture to eye and soul--so different from Yedo, he thought beguiled. Hosaki would enjoy it here, a huge change from our Spartan life. She appreciates beauty, she would like it here.
So easy to be swallowed up, by the weather and gardens, kind skies and tender rain, best music, poetry, exotic foods, abundant silks and clothes makers, exquisite carp and singing birds, the alabaster-skinned beauties of the Court, and of Kyoto's Floating World, the Shimibara, the most sought-after in all Nippon, without a care in the world except to seek the next pleasure.
Since coming to Kyoto, apart from his temporary peace with Ogama, he had achieved little except pleasure times--so rare for him. Pleasure with Koiko, daily sword practice and the martial arts, marvelous massage--Kyoto famous for it--banquets at every meal, playing Go and chess, writing poetry.
How wise of my ancestor to confine the Emperor and these overdressed sycophants to Kyoto, and to build his own capital at Yedo, far from their seductions and twisted manipulations--and how wise to forbid a Shogun coming into this honeyed trap.
I should leave. How can I without Nobusada?
The Court had all but excluded him. So had Nobusada. Twice the youth had cancelled a meeting at the last moment because of a chill. The doctor had officially confirmed the chill but his eyes agreed it was an excuse. "But the Lord Shogun's health does worry me, Lord Yoshi. His constitution is not strong and his manliness leaves much to be desired."
"Is it the fault of the Princess?"' "No, no Sire. She is vigorous and her yin ample and succulent enough to satisfy the most particular yang."
Yoshi had questioned the doctor carefully.
Nobusada had never been a swordsman or hunter or outdoor person like his father and brothers, preferring the easier sports of falconry and archery, or, more often poetry competitions and calligraphy. But there was nothing wrong with that.
"His father is still as tough as an old saddle and his family known for longevity. You have no cause for alarm, Doctor. Give him one of your potions, get him to eat more fish, less polished rice, and less of the exotics the Princess enjoys."
She had been present at the only interview he had had with his ward a few days ago. It had gone badly. Nobusada had refused to consider returning to Yedo, refused even to discuss a possible date, refused his advice in every other matter, taunting him with Ogama: "The Choshu control the streets, Ogama's men are stamping out the vile shishi, Cousin. I'm not even safe surrounded by our warriors, I am only safe here under the Emperor's protection!"
"That is a myth. You are only safe in Yedo Castle."
"So sorry, Lord Yoshi," the Princess said sweetly and silkily, "but it is so damp in Yedo, the weather is not to compare with Kyoto and my husband's cough needs protection."
"That is right, Yazu-chan, and I like it here, Cousin, for the first time in my life I am free, not confined in that awful castle! Here I am free to roam and sing and play and feel safe, we are safe. I may stay forever! Why not? Yedo is a stinking, slimy place, to rule from here would be grand."
Yoshi had tried to reason with them but to no avail. Then Nobusada had blurted out, "What I need most of all, until I am of age, not long now, Cousin, what I need is a strong leader, a tairo. Nori Anjo would be perfect."
"He would be very bad for you and the Shogunate," he had said and patiently explained again but it had made no difference.
"Unwise to ma--"' "I do not agree, Cousin, Anjo listens to me, to me, which you never do. I said I wanted to bow before the Divine, my brother-in-law, he agreed and I am here, you were opposed! He listens to me! To me! To me, the Shogun! And don't forget anyone is better than you. You will never be tairo, never!"
And he had left the two of them, never believing --despite Nobusada's derisive, infuriating laughter in his wake--that Tairo Anjo would ever become a fact.
But now it is a fact, he thought gloomily, conscious of the Lord Chancellor Wakura watching him. "I will leave Kyoto in the next few days," he said, coming to a sudden decision.
"But you have been here hardly any time, Sire,"
Wakura said, quietly congratulating himself.
"Surely our welcome has not been so terrible?"
"No, not terrible. So, what other distressing pieces of information have you for me?"
"None, Sire. So sorry I related something that displeased you." Wakura rang a bell.
At once a painted pageboy came in with tea and a plate of dates, his teeth also dyed black.
"Thank you, Omi." The boy smiled back at him and left. "The dates are the sweetest I've ever tasted. From Satsuma."
They were large, honeyed and sun-dried.
Yoshi's eyes narrowed. He took one, no coincidence they were from Satsuma. "They are excellent."
"Yes, they are. A pity the daimyo Sanjiro is not as sweet as the food and fruit his soldier farmers grow. Curious that samurai in Satsuma can be either without loss of caste."
Yoshi chose another. "Curious? Just their ancient custom. A bad custom. Better that men should be samurai or farmers, one or the other, according to the Legacy."
"Ah yes, the Legacy. But then Shogun Toranaga allowed that family to retain their fief and their heads after Sekigahara though they fought against him. Perhaps he liked their dates too.
Interesting, neh?"
"Perhaps he was satisfied that they put their heads to the dirt in front of him, humbly gave him power over Satsuma, humbly swore perpetual allegiance and, even more humbly, thanked him when he gave Satsuma to them as fief."
"He was a wise ruler, very wise. But now the Satsuma under Sanjiro are not so humble."
"That is also true of others," Yoshi said thinly.